Solo

Solo

Surprise! Hello Angela, you poor love. I've come to cheer you up.
What's that? I can't quite hear... but of course - you can only
whisper! You poor, poor thing, you.
What rotten luck getting laryngitis. Now, don't worry about the way you
look. No, your hair isn't a mess, really it isn't. No more than anyone
else's would be if they'd been sleeping all on one side; just a bit
crushed flat. You know. And a bit of mascara on one cheek. Anyway,
there's nobody here but us girls to see, is there?

Shall I I sit down here on the edge of your bed? That way I can hear
you better. I'm sure doctor wouldn't thank me if I made you strain your
voice even worse than it is. You must just rest it; that's right.

You know, the Vicar waited right till the end of rehearsal on Monday
before he told the choir about your bad throat. We were all just
devastated. Really such rotten, rotten luck. Although I must say,
Angela, with the best will in the world, you did bring it on yourself.
What? But you did,dear. Be honest. All that practising and practising.
Pardon? Yes, of course I know the competition is day after tomorrow.
That's what makes it so awful. Mmm? Calmly, dear. Yes, I understand
that you wanted your solo to be just perfect. But even so, we're not as
young as we once were, are we?

Hmm? You want to pee? Of course. Let me help you with these blankets.
Oh. Oh. Not "pee" - "tea". You want some tea. Sorry. I'll just cover
you up and make us some. Well, really! I said "sorry". I had no idea
you only wore Frank's pyjama tops in bed. No need to get fussed. We're
all made the same, you know. Well, more or less. Now, how do you like
your tea - white without

You'll what, dear? Ring? Oh, I see! What a darling little bell.
Goodness! All done, then? I'm afraid Mrs. Morgan can't hear. She's
gone. I meant to tell you, I met her at the door. She was going out as
I was coming in. I think she said something about the shops; out of
furniture polish or some such. What's that? She didn't tell you? Well,
I daresay she didn't want to bother you. She knows you mustn't be
bothered.

In fact, she didn't even want to let me come in to visit at first. Can
you believe that?!
Said the doctor had told you to stay absolutely quiet. Rest and quiet.
But I told her I'd be just like a tiny wee mousie, and that she should
go out and do her errands and not rush back. Poor thing - she looked
tired. Getting on.

So sweet, though. You do have a real treasure in Mrs. Morgan. I told
her so. She seemed to appreciate it. A few words of praise here and
there can work wonders. So many people forget to say thank you, don't
they? I asked her if there was any possibility your voice might recover
in time for the competition, and she said, "oh, no. I'm afraid not. Dr.
Williams says there's no chance. She's strained her vocal chords and it
could be weeks before she's right again."

I was just so sorry. My worst fears realised, I said. Pardon? Angela,
when you get agitated, I can hardly make out a word. Don't dear -
please don't get so excited. She what? Had no right? Whatever do you
mean? The doctor didn't...didn't tell you that? Oh dear! Now look what
I've done. Gone and put my foot in it. The last thing I wanted was to
be the bearer of bad tidings. Heavens! I just came to cheer you up,
after all. Never mind, sweetie. Least said, soonest mended. Oh! That's
quite apropos, isn't it? Clever me.

Anyway, let's just relax, get comfortable and have a lovely, private
little tea party. Shall we? Goody. I'll be your maid. What is madam's
pleasure today - white with or without? Oh? You don't care for any tea
after all? What a fickle pickle we are!

I'll just settle down again then. Or is there anything else you'd like?
You wish...I'd stop treating you like an invalid?! Well. As you will,
Angela, I'm sure. I'll treat you just as though you're perfectly well,
shall I? Just as though it's perfectly normal to be in bed at four
o'clock in the afternoon without any voice and under the doctor.

Well, I should think so. No, don't apologise, Angela. I'm sure it must
be a terrible strain to be lying there when there's so much you'd like
to be doing. I do. I do understand. You were always such an active
person. I'm sure I don't know how you manage it with those varicose
veins.

Those veins. On your legs, dear. Yes they are. You do amaze me. Of
course they are.Do you think I don't know varicose veins when I see
them, after the way my sister and my mother both suffered? They'll want
ripping out one day soon, mark my words. Agony, they can be. You ask
Dr. Williams. Though, frankly, if he hasn't already mentioned them, and
he didn't tell you about your vocal chords either, perhaps you ought to
find a doctor who'll be more honest with you. There's no use hiding
from the truth, no matter how unpleasant. Now, don't say another word.
No thanks needed. That's what real friends are for.

You what, dear? Wondered...which hymn the choir will be singing now you
can't do your solo? Well, I think I can put your mind at rest about
that.

You know we've got the two alternative hymns. Well, we tried them both
on Monday. Several times. But somehow, they just don't have the impact
of "Jerusalem", do they? No. I quite agree. So, when we heard you
wouldn't be able to sing, everyone was glum. And then, all of a sudden,
your friend, Mrs. Waverley - what's her name? Jennifer. That's right.
She said, "Angela has worked so hard, and I know she'd be heartbroken
to think of all her efforts wasted. I think we should try to sing
"Jerusalem" in her honour, as a kind of tribute." Yes, she did! Wasn't
that wonderful of her?

You should have heard the applause. The whole choir just clapped and
clapped; we all felt such love for you, and such loyalty. Aww. Look at
you, smiling again. Now, aren't you glad I came?

Hmm? No, dear. You're right; the hymn isn't the same without the solo.
That's what Eleanor said. And then, Mrs. Chase - she's the competition
organist, by the way - you haven't met her; she came all the way from
Chepstow for the rehearsal. Anyway, she said she thought someone else
ought to attempt it.

Well! None of us would have suggested such a thing, I'm sure. "Nobody
could sing it like Angela," your friend....thingy said. But for the
sake of the choir, you know, and our church, we took a vote, and
everyone agreed we should try. You'll never guess who they chose. No,
not Susan. Guess again. No, Angela! Goodness, poor Celia's practically
tone deaf. No! They chose me. Wasn't that sweet? I was so touched I
almost cried.

It's a great honour. I mean, can you imagine? Little me, standing up
there in front of 500 people. And the judges! I'll be shaking in my
boots, I can tell you. Angela, could you be an absolute darling and
listen to me do the chorus? You have such a good ear; if anyone is even
a teensy bit flat or sharp, you're always the one who can spot it. It's
no good shaking your head like that, you modest old thing - you know
it's true!

Well, here goes. "Je -rooo-sa -lem, Je-ROO-sa-lem. Lift up your gates
and SING! Ho-sa-nah i-hin the HI-yest! Ho-san-na-ha-ha to ah-ha-hour
KING!"

There. What did you...why Angela! Are those tears in your eyes? They
are! Why you sweet, sweet thing. It is a moving solo, isn't it? And
I've really touched your emotions, haven't I. Well, my goodness, that's
all right. Nothing to be sorry about. You just let it all out. Have a
good cry. Probably the best thing for you. Gorgeous music often does
the same to me; I just break down and sob like a baby. Here - have a
tissue. Your mascara's gone on both sides now.

Heavens - there's the front door. Mrs. Morgan must be back. Well, you
just get better, my dear. I'll tiptoe away now. Shall I turn out the
light? Then you can have a good sleep. Bye bye, dear. Bye. We'll all be
thinking of you on the big night!

Mrs. Morgan. I say, Mrs. Morgan. I'm off now. She is worn out, poor
lamb. All on edge. Oh, yes, thanks. Such a good visit ! I really
cheered her up. Do you know, there were actual tears of joy in her
eyes. So sweet.

- The End -